The Dragon's Circle
by WILLOW
Summary: Alternate History- Chapter Three: Oblivion- main charactors are James Potter and Severus Snape
1. Murphy's Law

Title: The Dragon's Circle  
  
Author: Willow   
  
Status: Work in progress  
  
Rating: R (For imagery and violence)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any relating character,   
place, spell, or idea. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not making   
any money off this.   
  
I'd like to thank my new beta, Mary Kate!  
  
  
  
Chapter One: Murphy's Law  
  
Anything that can go wrong. . .will.  
  
  
November First, 1981.  
  
It was his first night on the job and William Anderson was   
patrolling. Everybody involved in law enforcement was out in force.   
They had received a tip that something big was going to happen.   
During times like these he thought darkly, Something happened almost everyday.  
  
He had heard horrible stories from the older members of his squad.   
  
He shook his head to clear his thoughts trying not dwell on those   
sort of things while he was on duty. He looked at his watch. Almost   
time to check in with the rest of the squad.  
  
He walked down the almost empty street. Shops, cafes, and little   
taverns lined the road but all were already closed. A slight breeze   
tussled his hair. It's all quiet here he decided. He'd better call in   
and report that he had nothing to report. He unhooked his two-way   
radio from his belt, and started to dial when...  
  
*Boom*!  
  
An explosion shook the earth. He could see smoke rising over trees   
and houses. He dropped his radio and took off towards the scene of the   
explosion.  
  
The radio went off. A message was incoming but was ignored. He was already   
gone.  
  
*****  
  
The man shifted beneath the weight of the rubble that he was pinned   
under. He stifled a groan and willed his body to try to get out, but   
he couldn't muster up enough strength to move. He felt his mind   
slowly drift away from the agony. Pain seemed to be flowing through   
him. It hurt even to breathe.   
  
His eyelids felt heavy and he could not keep them open. He lost   
consciousness, stranded beneath the ruins of his house.   
  
*****  
  
Running through driveways, yards, and empty lots, William arrived   
first on scene. He stared in horror at what he saw. The two-story   
house was almost completely gone. Little pockets of flame were   
scattered about. Ashes fell from the sky like rain. He jogged through   
the wreckage looking for survivors.   
  
He stood in the doorway of the only room still standing, remarkably   
enough on the second floor, and looked around. A light-blue dresser   
and chest were on one side of the room and a matching book-case   
complete with books on the other. A small, wooden baby cradle stood   
at the far end. All were covered with soot.  
  
A red-haired woman was sprawled on the ground face up in front of   
the cradle. Debris littered the floor around her. He ran and kneeled   
beside her. Her brilliant green eyes stared, unfocused. He saw no   
signs of breathing. He gently touched her carotid artery in her throat, looking for her pulse. None.  
  
She was dead.  
  
Almost unwillingly, he got up and looked into the cradle. The baby   
had black hair and his eyes were closed, as if sleeping. But William   
could tell by its blue tinged face that he was also dead.   
  
He backed up slowly. Turned around and sprinted out of the smoking   
ruins, fell on his knees and vomited on the walk. He never seen death   
before and he prayed to God he would never sees it again.  
  
He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck stand on end. He shivered   
and looked up. His jaw dropped.  
  
Up in the sky over the house like a beacon was a burning-green skull   
with a snake coming out of its mouth.  
  
He dropped into a faint.  
  
*****  
  
People gathered in small groups- some were whispering hurriedly to   
each other pointing to the image above them. Others stared at the   
smoldering wreckage of what was once the Potter's home.   
  
The bystanders' talking buzzed slightly louder when the first black   
body bag was carted out on a stretcher into the morgue's awaiting   
black van. Then the second, smaller body bag was brought out and was   
laid in the van beside the other. A third followed soon after. The   
van's doors clanged shut and the onlookers hushed almost   
respectfully.  
  
They started to drift home. That was the third time this month a   
family died in flames.  
  
*****  
  
The alarms enchanted around the Potter's House reported if any major   
magical activity took place in it. Two minutes ago they went off   
informing the teachers at Hogwarts that something had happened.   
Minerva McGonangall Apparated to the Potters' House. Albus Dumbledore   
Apparated next to her.   
  
"Up there. Minerva, look, The Dark Mark."  
  
She sighed. "Let's look for survivors instead, Albus."  
  
They rushed inside and searched. Nobody was there. They went up the   
partly remaining stairs. There was Lily on the ground. McGonangall   
bent over her.  
  
"She's dead."  
  
Dumbledore nodded slowly and checked inside the crib. "But Harry isn't. There's an asphyxiating curse on him. I can lift it." He said, while weaving his wand in a complicating pattern. The baby started to breath again.  
  
"Minerva, here, take him. Let's look for James."  
  
"What if they come back and see him missing?"  
  
Dumbledore pursed his lips in thought. "I can transfigure something   
to look like him." He picked up a stuffed bear. He started chanting   
and waved his wand. A blue-glow engulfed the bear as it altered it   
shape.   
  
It was a perfect replica. Dumbledore set it in the cradle. "Let's go."  
  
*****  
  
"Crucio!"  
  
Severus Snape writhed on the ground.   
  
"You've failed. Turning traitor was the most unwise thing you could   
have possibly done."  
  
Voldemort circled slowly around Snape.  
  
"But, you probably realize that now, don't you?" He looked at Snape   
with disgust and waved his wand at him. Just as that Unforgivable   
curse lifted another one hit.   
  
"Imperio! Stand up."  
  
He stood up, no control over his own action.  
  
Voldemort raged. "I don't understand. You would have gone   
far. . .had wealth, glory, and power. What any Slytherin would want.   
But you threw it all away! And for what?" He paused.   
  
Snape, still standing, was swaying from side to side trying to   
balance while his feet were firmly locked in place. Voldemort   
twitched his wand and broke the spell. Snape came crashing down.  
  
He pushed himself to hands and knees, gathered his strength, and   
looked up.   
  
"Did you think you could out-smart me?"   
  
Snape sneered.  
  
Voldemort sneered right back. "You heard of a raid that was going to happen on the Thirty-first,   
right? A raid on somebody who you hate but owed a debt to. So you   
thought you would warn him. Dept repaid. Do you know what? You   
failed."   
  
"The Potters," He continued. "All three are dead. I did it myself.   
The husband died first- house blown to bits around him. Bravely, he   
stood against me hoping to gain his wife and son some time to escape.   
It didn't work."   
  
He smiled. "The house is gone. Only one room, the nursery, stood   
intact. Thanks to a charm the wife cast." His voice dropped down to a whisper. "It took me several seconds to deal with both the woman and her child." He paused.  
  
"Relatively easy to do if you ask me. Hardly even worth the effort.   
But now to more pressing questions. . .Crucio! Did you reliaze   
somebody was leaking vital information to Dumbledore and his group?"   
He asked. "I believe you know more about that then you're letting on."  
  
Snape cried out in pain. Voldemort put more effort into the curse.   
  
"How did you send messages to Dumbledore and what did you tell him?"  
  
Snape's fingers were clenched in a bloody fist.  
  
He let the spell go for about seven minutes before asking   
derisively, "Don't you think this has gone on long enough? How much   
longer do you think you can last? Not much more by the look of you.   
All you have to do is answer the questions and this pain will stop."  
  
He continued. "Did you betray us?"  
  
Snape hissed in pain but said nothing.  
  
With a wave of his wand, Voldemort stopped the spell. Snape was left   
gasping for breath. "This is getting us nowhere. Imperio! Did you   
tell Dumbledore?"  
  
*****  
  
McGonangall and Dumbledore strode in a pattern across the ruins of   
the house. Their wands were issuing a crosswork of silver-like   
threads that covered everything.   
  
Over a smaller pile of rubbish, the thread turned bright red.   
  
"There's somebody alive under here." McGonangall called   
out. "Wingardium Leviosa!" She moved the fragments of the house into   
another pile. She gasped. Looking at the battered figure she realized   
who it was.  
  
"James."  
  
  
  
  
***** 


	2. Solitary

Title: The Dragon's Circle  
  
Author: Willow   
  
Status: Work in progress  
  
Rating: R (For imagery and violence)  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any relating character,   
place, spell, or idea. They belong to J.K. Rowling. I am not making   
any money off this.   
  
I'd like to thank my new beta, Mary Kate!  
  
  
Chapter Two: Solitary  
  
"The optimist proclaims that we live in the best of all possible   
worlds, and the pessimist fears this is true." -James Branch Cabell  
  
  
  
Pain woke him. It felt like shards of glass were digging in his   
back. He tried pushing that thought to a corner of his mind. He had   
to get out.   
  
He needed his wand to do that. He tried reaching around but his left   
side of his body was pinned. He attempted to move his legs but   
couldn't tell if he succeeded.  
  
He flinched when light filled his vision and blinked when it was   
soon replaced by a sharp darkness. Streams of sunshine promptly broke   
through and played over his face.   
  
"James," he heard a female voice say. Then, a dark yellow light   
enveloped him. He was lifted and set on solid ground. A silhouette   
rushed over to him.  
  
He tried to focus on her, but she kept blurring in and out. Black   
hair bound tightly in a bun and a pale pinched face; she looked   
vaguely like Minerva McGonangall. She was McGonangall. How did she   
get here?  
  
James closed his eyes. He lapsed back into the painless reaches of   
unconsciousness.  
  
*****  
  
With a wave of his wand, Voldemort stopped the spell. Snape was left   
gasping for breath. "This is getting us nowhere. Imperio! Did you   
tell Dumbledore?"   
  
Silence reigned. The forest they were in was almost deathly still.   
The branches of the trees rattled slightly insects chirped and far   
off an owl hooted.   
  
Snape felt free from care or worry. All the pains and aches he was   
feeling left him. He wanted to tell him the truth. He dimly heard   
Voldemort ask him again. He almost confessed but something held him   
back. He wanted to tell him but he knew he must not, and so he did   
not. He would not betray his cause even if it meant his death. Such   
loyalty is not usually Slytherin but he reasoned he owed it. It was   
his fault that the Potters are dead.  
  
"Yes or No? You might at least have a suspicion who told him my   
plans..."  
  
"My Lord."   
  
Voldemort turned his attention from Snape and focused on the Death   
Eater. "What?" He snapped.  
  
"Aurors have found our location. We're holding them off for the   
moment, but there are too many of them for us to handle without major   
losses to our ranks."  
  
"Send the signal to disperse."  
  
"At once, my lord." The Death Eater bowed and began to leave.   
  
He toppled to the ground after taking a few steps. Snape and   
Voldemort were also sprawled on the forest floor. Pine needles, old   
leafs, and sticks scratched at their faces. All of them were   
clutching their heads in obvious pain.   
  
Their headaches faded while an incessant droning took hold. After   
about three minutes, that also became inaudible.   
  
Voldemort was the first to stand. About thirty seconds afterwards,   
Snape stood up fingers rubbing his temple.   
  
Voldemort stuck his wand in the air and shouted "Morsemodre!"  
  
A red strand fired out of his wand blazing in the morning sky with   
his symbol. It signaled his followers to his exact location. A   
dangerous spell to do because it also showed his enemies where he was.   
  
He knows it was worth the risk, and he needed to gather his ranks.   
He waited for them to arrive.  
  
His Death Eaters pushed through the forest to get to him. Five   
minutes passed; then ten. After fifteen, they found him standing in a   
small clearing with Snape right beside him and a man groaning on the   
ground.  
  
They assembled around their dark lord waiting for him to speak.  
  
"A few minutes ago I felt a disturbance. I do not recognize or even   
know what it was. I need to know if anyone else felt it. If you did   
not, will you step forward."  
  
Nobody moved.  
  
"So you all felt it also?"  
  
He heard several 'yes m'lords'.   
  
"Very well. Apparate to the base and I'll give more orders there."  
  
"My lord," he asked. "What about him?" He pointed to the man on the   
ground.  
  
Voldemort sneered "Leave him. He's served his use."  
  
They left.  
  
*****  
  
The Daily Prophet  
  
*Unknown Occurrence Wrecks Havoc*  
  
By: Nicholas Bothe  
  
  
Earlier this morning, both the wizard and Muggle worlds received a   
jolt of awakening. Details on this are sketchy except that it was not   
magically induced.   
  
Both Nonmagical and Magical people all over the world reported   
symptoms of splitting headaches, a low buzzing noise and loss of   
balance. Officials refuse to comment on this except that it has   
absolutely nothing to do with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.   
  
Several hundred Muggle and thirty-four wizards died. Their deaths   
are being blamed on this tragedy...(continued on page 2a)   
  
The Minister of Magic is scheduled to hold a conference with his   
advisors later today on this unexpected event. Expect an overview of   
his meeting in tomorrow's newspaper as well as an update on this   
situation.   
  
*****  
  
"Glad to see you're awake."   
  
James opened his eyes to see the concerned face of a wizened old man   
with a sweeping white beard, Dumbledore. He took note of his   
surroundings. He was on the bed furthest away from the door in the   
infirmary at Hogwarts. How did he end up here? He was just at his   
house. Dumbledore saw his look of bewilderment but said nothing.   
  
Confusion led to panic. What exactly happened? Then it all rushed   
back; the alarms setting off, and the explosion. Lily and Harry. Eyes   
wide, he looked to Dumbledore for answers.   
  
Dumbledore remained stoic.  
  
Tears rolled down James's face. He remembered. "Lily's dead isn't   
she." He put his head in his hands. "Harry is also."  
  
"Yes, she is dead, but Harry's in perfect health. Do you wish to see   
him?"   
  
James only nodded.  
  
Dumbledore called into the next room. "Poppy, can you bring Harry in   
here?"  
  
She walked into the room with the sleeping little boy wrapped in a   
beige blanket in her arms.   
  
She handed him to James. "Your son."   
  
James took him from her and started to examine him. He was fine   
which was more than he could say about Lily. He hugged the baby to   
his chest and stared morosely at the wall in front on him.   
  
Poppy ushered the headmaster out of the room to leave the father and   
son alone.  
  
*****  
  
McGonangall met with Dumbledore outside of the infirmary. She had a   
grave expression on her face. "Severus hasn't checked in yet."  
  
"Do you remember the last time he checked in?"  
  
"Two days ago."  
  
"That's not unusual. Sometimes he doesn't check in for weeks at a   
time."  
  
"I just have a feeling." She waited before continuing with, "I need   
to leave so I won't be late for class, but look out for any sort of   
message from him."  
  
"I will." He promised.  
  
"I'm worried about him, Albus."  
  
"As am I."  
  
She stayed a moment longer.  
  
"Also, did you find anything relating to do with today's   
development?" she asked finally.  
  
"Nothing that wasn't in the papers. It wasn't magical in origin and   
Voldemort didn't cause it. I don't have the slightest idea of what it   
could be."   
  
She nodded. "Please tell me if you find out."  
  
"Of course."  
  
She turned and headed down the hall towards her classroom, leaving   
Dumbledore alone.  
  
  
  
***** 


	3. Oblivion

Title: The Dragon's Circle  
  
Author: Willow  
  
Status: Work in progress  
  
Rating: R  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any relating character, place, spell, or idea. They belong to J. K. Rowling. I am not making any money off this.  
  
*****  
  
"Out of life's school of war: What does not destroy me, makes me stronger." -Friedrich Nietzsche  
  
*****  
  
Interlude I: Requiem  
  
"Remus Lupin. Sirius Black. James Potter. And myself. The four of us." Peter Pettigrew murmured to himself in the corner of the dusty room. "Together, we thought we were unstoppable. Our idealism. Our righteousness. We were naive. Such puerile conceptions showed our young age."  
  
Across the floor, he started to pace. Week old stubble adorned his pallid face.  
  
Peter continued as his voice grew steadily stronger. "That was the sum of our friendship; that was the total of our whole." He stopped pacing and stared at the crack in the wall. "But with a quarter of the whole missing, the total is incomplete...I'm incomplete..."  
  
"We were inseparable at Hogwarts." He said, "They were the people I turned to. Who turned to me. We would have done anything for one another. Die for each other. But people change. I changed. 'Time waits for no one' and all that rot."  
  
"We drifted apart after graduation. Nobody, including myself, had any time to spend with the others. We had new friends and loved ones. We had blossoming families and flourishing jobs. Every member of our quartet evolved past his adolescent fantasy of grown-up life. He each had his own realization of adulthood and the responsibilities that it requires." He sighed. All he had now was this austere room, a table holding his wand, and a half-empty bottle of cheap vodka.  
  
"Poor James, I guess it was for the best. Such situations always look bleak. But, there is a bright side. I just haven't found it yet."  
  
His world exploded in fire.  
  
*****  
Blistering air radiated from the building, wilting the nearby vegetation. Gritty, black smoke poured from the cracks in the roof. Flames leaped through jagged glass jutting from window panes like fire escaping out a dragon's mouth.  
  
Sirens wailed in the background.  
Sirius Black regarded the remnants of Peter Pettigrew's house with mounting trepidation. He raced inside the burning building hoping to find his friend. He couldn't stand to lose another.  
  
*****  
  
Chapter Three: Oblivion  
  
*****  
  
James Potter sat morosely while Harry slept in the elderly Potions Professor's arms. She rocked him, alternately cooing at the baby and worrying about James.  
  
Viola Obduraten was distressed over James. 'That poor dear,' she thought to herself, 'losing his wife like that... Makes a girl want to cry.'  
  
"Minerva asked me to contact your friends. I was unable to find Remus or Peter, but I've located Sirius. He said he'll 'round up the other two.' Don't worry about them. I am sure they're fine." To fill the silence permeating the room the older woman continued, "What do you suppose the conference will be about? I know it will relate to that dreadful occurrence yesterday...do you think You-Know-Who did it? I wonder why he would?" James continued with his dour quiet.  
  
"Dearie, I know you're upset, and I understand why. But moping isn't going to help. I'll have the house-elves send us a nice stew. That'll be fine and filling."  
  
"Damn the stew! My wife is dead." James ranted. "She's dead. She's never coming back. Lily is not coming back! Do you understand? She's dead. Lily..." He trailed off.  
  
Viola set little Harry in his nearby bassinet. "I understand, James. Truthfully, I do. Death visits everyone. I'm old. I've seen my share of death, and living with that knowledge is never easy." She paused, trying to judge if her words were having any effect on him. "James, you're right. Lily is dead. Listen." She said sternly, making eye-contact as she spoke. "Listen to me! You're alive. Harry's alive. You have friends who love you, and worry about you. Mourn her loss. She deserves that, but don't let your grief to cloud your senses. Harry needs his father." Her features soften. "She loved you, you know. And him." She looked at the sleeping infant. "Remember that, and her death, though lost senselessly, will have meaning." Silence. "How about some stew. I'll summon the house-elves." She stood up and walked out of the room.  
  
James sat contemplating.  
  
*****  
  
Alone in the corridors, Dumbledore had only his suspicions. "Hopefully," he thought, "they are incorrect." He strode briskly to his office.  
  
Once there, he made his way to a nondescript cabinet. He tapped his wand to the wood and murmured a spell. A hazy-yellow light shot from the wand and enveloped the cabinet.  
  
The wood creaked and began to stretch. Drawers fused together, leaving one solid, oak plank. It's knobs surged together into a single, tarnished-silver handle. Swelling until it reached man-sized proportions, the cabinet was now a grand doorway. Dumbledore straightened his shoulders and pulled at the handle. He opened the door and entered his private library.  
  
The aromatic smell of old parchment and leather lingered on the dry air. Tall bookcases, littered with tomes, lined the room. In front, a flame crackled in the fireplace. Near that, a worn chair rested next to a candle- laden table. Passing a myriad of ancient parchment sat upon thick, oak shelves, he neared the section he searched for.  
  
He meandered through the towering cases until he reached his destination. A heap of decrepit books stacked forlornly on a buckling desk.  
  
"The answer may reside in here," Dumbledore murmured to himself as he pulled a dusty volume from it's niche. He ran a finger down the leather spine and read the peeling, golden letters; Life on a Line: A Dissertation on Inexplicable Phenomena. He slowly made his way to his office for a night of reading.  
  
*****  
Motes of dust danced in the waning glow of the lit candelabra. It's flickering light cast shadows over the mahogany furniture, the lush carpet, and the priceless artwork which decorated the walls. A specter standing vigil over his fallen victim; Voldemort contemplated the pale man laying on the ground. He then looked at the wand in his hand.  
  
"Every man's mind is protected, to some extent." He began. "For most untrained individuals, the barrier defending their thoughts are flawed. Through those 'fissures' one can visit their memories and traipse through their thoughts." Voldemort lectured as he stepped by Snape's body on the way to the desk in the corner.  
  
"But their are those who can seal their fissures. Fortifying them until the mind has an almost impenetrable shield. I can't pry this information from a steeled mind without the use of a honed force...Crucio! But, force I have."  
  
Snape started twitching on the floor.  
  
Voldemort picked up a quill from the desk. "And, even the most tempered metal snaps under pressure." He ruffled the plume. "Your shields are strong. Too strong for a novice. What other secrets are you hiding?" Voldemort set down his quill. He then waved his wand, stopping his curse. "Snape. I can easily break your shields." Voldemort said, almost sounding reasonable. Inwardly, he was seething. "I will, if you do not abide by my order. Tell me."  
  
Snape pulled himself to a sitting position.  
  
"Your problem is..." He trailed off. "Your problem is that you perceive, mistakenly, that you are superior." Snape croaked out, almost conversationally. "Did you actually believe you can decipher someone's thoughts with a simple probe?" Snape shook his head in mock surprise. "Are you that delusional? Little effort was needed to mask my motives and fool you. I was playing turncoat the entire time." Snape said, condescendingly. "By your own arrogance, you damned your operations. My Lord." He said the last two words like they left a vulgar taste in his mouth.  
  
Voldemort's eyes narrowed. He realized Snape was trying to bait him. Snape wanted him to lose his temper, and Snape knew the consequence for such insolence, death. Snape, through his bravado, wanted to die. He was protecting something.  
  
"You haven't answered my questions." Voldemort said.  
  
Snape said nothing, his silence spoke for itself.  
  
"Very well." Voldemort said with finality. "Crucio!"  
  
"Pain works best, you understand. It motivates even the toughest man to betray his truest thoughts. With pain though...You have to be cautious with pain." He looked at the tortured form and stopped his curse. "I may have been too...enthusiastic in dealing with you." An idea struck the Dark Lord's mind. Voldemort's eyes closed. Pointing at Snape, his wand twisting into complex patterns. "Snoit pecrep, derugif sid." He muttered. A silver mist leaked out of the wand and encompassed Snape's body. Slowly, the mist drew together as a cloud and covered Snape's head.  
Voldemort's wand flowed up, down, left, and right. Swirls and flicks accentuated the delicate weaving of the spell. "Y'Tinasni selur." The amorphous cloud funneled into the orifices of Snape's head. His spell finished, Voldemort tiredly lowered his wand. "You know Severus, some of the more persuading tortures are not physical in nature." He smiled and left the room. The door clanging shut behind him.  
  
*****  
Snape's mind raved. He was desperate. Malignant thoughts ripped through his spirit and tore at the ravished remains like a ravaging vulture.  
  
Ingredients of hate disintegrated his soul. War. Lechery. Poverty. Depravity. Jealousy. His heart, scorched by desolation, was an ash husk.  
  
Life is a cycle and its rotation leads to death...just by living one must kill. Life needs death to flourish. Be that as it may, no. It is not easy to kill. It is not right to kill. This mantra repeats in his head. It is not right to kill. But some things must be done...  
  
Future and past blend as memories coalesce. Fire burns- purges. Lithe and limber, moving and still, the form lingers on its prey. Death hovers. It destroys what it creates. An embittered figure setting his world ablaze.  
  
He rallied. His mind gathering recollections of nobler qualities, happiness...innocence...fidelity, honor, respect. Joy. Love. Hope. Such toxic little thoughts.  
  
Happiness molds. Love rusts. Hatred abounds. Life is murder, exalted. He felt like he was locked in a crypt and the air was running out. He would smother. His mind snapped. Corruption most grand. Like an unholy phoenix, It rose from the smoldering cinders of a defeated man.  
  
Death lived.  
  
And hope died.  
  
***** 


End file.
